Lizzo and Anderson .Paak Prove That a Good Jam Never Goes Out of Style

Recent concerts from both electric performers suggest that proper live bands could make a return.

Word is that Mac DeMarco has seen his shadow, which means it must be that season again, the season during which fans flock to fields, arenas, and beaches; when artists like Anderson .Paak and Lizzo make bank; when social media is flooded with shaky, out-of-focus videos meant to bear witness (read: inspire unbearable bouts of FOMO).

Yes, tour season is firmly under way. America’s marquee artists are making the rounds, and there’s no telling what you might see. Lamborghinis might float through the air; beds might too, and, yeah, stages will probably float as well. Concerts have always placed a premium on the spectacular, but over the course of the past decade or so, a confluence of circumstances—technological advances, the music industry’s changing financial structure, social-media pandering—has transformed what constitutes a concert in the first place. Live shows have become virtual (and sometimes literal) amusement parks, with live bands giving way to massive screens, extravagant pyrotechnics, and boundless indulgences of imagination.

It’s all bringing us closer to the stars—or at least, magnifying them—and providing new, highly Instagrammable thrills. But for stars like .Paak, the movement toward making live music more technological and lavishly theatrical is an opportunity to rebel: to zig where others are zagging, to double down on what’s been left behind. “Whenever there's something like [forfeiting live bands] going on, there's got to be a void on the other side where the people are really amped to see and to feel some real music,” he says backstage, just before closing out Pharrell’s Something in the Water Festival late last month.

And during his set, all indications were that he was on to something here. From the moment the lights illuminated the stage and .Paak, perched above and behind his big band like a king at his throne, started drumming, the beach full of festival-goers was entranced, bouncing, swaying, and singing along. “See, he’s good, right?” a man standing next to me said to his girlfriend. And then to his friend, “So goood!” (Both responses were affirmative.)

The show was very much in Anderson .Paak’s image; it had a vintage appeal, with a hint of a modern sensibility. The way .Paak’s back-up singers swayed back and forth and clapped their hands above their heads recalled a ’70s funk show, as did the band’s outfits (.Paak set the tone with a flowing Hawaiian shirt, a furry yellow bucket hat, and leopard-print pants) and the bright, flower-power lighting combinations. It was all very groovy, but the energy was relentless. When .Paak wasn’t drumming, he was dancing at the front of the stage. When he wasn’t singing, he was rapping. And when the audience got tired of looking at the band, there was always an enormous screen in the background to hold their attention.

Part of what makes .Paak’s live band alluring is the vacuum in which it exists. As digital has become the norm outside of retrograde genres (rock, jazz), a mastery of actual instruments has become all the more impressive. .Paak’s dynamic act has routinely earned him high billing at America’s marquee festivals the past few years. And later this month, as testament to his wager on old-school musicianship, he’ll headline Madison Square Garden.

But .Paak’s not the only modern artist finding success invoking the retro in his show and predicating his appeal on the playing of an instrument. On Sunday and Monday, Lizzo sold out the 1,800-person-capacity Brooklyn Steel on her Cuz I Love You tour. Wearing a gleaming red leather one-piece and flanked by a DJ and four similarly pantless backup dancers, Lizzo put on a show that, like her “Juice” video, resembled an ’80s exercise film in its smoky, muted neon aesthetic. She invoked Donna Summers’ “Bad Girls” and Aretha Franklin’s “Respect,” and her dancers occasionally glided around the stage in roller skates.

A central part of Lizzo’s artistic identity, like .Paak’s, has been based on her prolific playing of a non-guitar instrument. Lizzo’s prowess with her flute, which she calls Sasha Flute (in honor of Beyoncé’s third album, Sasha Fierce), won her viral fame early in her career, and it’s since become a staple of profiles, interviews, and fawning blog coverage. Her ability with the instrument is similarly impressive. And as with .Paak, there’s a degree to which Lizzo’s flute-playing is representative of her wide arsenal; both are electrifying dancers who can seamlessly move through genre and era in their music, and jam to boot. (Lizzo is also a magnetic speaker, preaching a gospel of empowerment and self-love.) Taken all together, it makes you wonder: Is there anything she can’t do?

But in concert, Lizzo’s flute plays a different function than .Paak’s drums. Rather than being the centerpiece of the show, it is an afterthought. On Sunday, Lizzo waited until her encore to trot out the instrument. She had already made use of balletic poles and flowers and a wedding veil, and the flute felt like another prop—though one that was more highly anticipated. When Lizzo introduced the instrument (“This is Sasha Flute,” she said, as if the crowd didn’t know), a sea of phones popped out; it was the most recorded moment of the night. Where .Paak’s drums are part of a bigger ethos of live playing, Lizzo’s flute acts more as an ironic novelty. Like Billie Eilish’s ukulele, it adds unexpected layers to her identity, briefly dazzling audiences rather than acting as the beating heart of the show.

On Sunday, Lizzo won over the crowd every bit as much as .Paak did late last month (“She’s a goddess,” one woman said to a friend midway through the show). And though she only gave fans a tease of Sasha Flute, the ravenous reaction her instrument produced supported .Paak’s point. The people wanted more; every note was a high one.